


I'll Wear A Mask For You

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After much training and coaching, Inquisitor Lavellan is ready for the ball at the Winter Palace. During the night, Vivienne reflects on the man and her admiration for him. At the end of the night when he confesses his feelings for her, Vivienne is hesitant to do the same after years of playing the Game. Her political instincts tell her it is too great a risk to begin an affair with him, but she cannot ignore her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Wear A Mask For You

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on the kink-meme needed some tender passionate loving for Vivienne and you know what, I'm all here for that. Also, I'm pretty sure this is the longest sex scene I've ever written. 
> 
> Title comes from Leonard Cohen's "I'm Your Man" which I suggest you also listen to on repeat when you read this, because that's what I did writing it.

The Inquisitor was...surprising. Vivienne would say that he held himself with grace, but that had connotations. It was a word that one used to describe elves pleasantly, an adjective used when one had nothing better to say about the race. But for him, it was an honest assessment. He was a man who listened and spoke little when he did not need to. He was reserved to strangers, but upon gaining his trust one could see his tender smile and hear his earnest laugh. He was not a young man, nor old, perhaps a dozen or so years younger than herself. Being so fair skinned, his laugh lines were obvious and his limited blood writing did nothing to hide it. She had never seen a Dalish man with only his forehead tattooed, but he had confided in her that he had fainted half way through the procedure and the Keeper had agreed to let the piece stand without doing any further work. It suited him, the simple lines that drew one's eye to his tempest blue eyes. Truly, they were eyes that contained storms when provoked, even if he held his tongue. It was a tell, one that she had only understood from months of observation. 

But now his patience would be put to the test. The Winter Palace called to them and the Dalish man would be subjected to criticism he could never truly prepare for. She was nervous and she had been part of the game...Maker, almost as long as the poor thing had been alive. Inquisitor Lavellan was walking into a bed of eels and he did so with the same care he did most things. He listened, he learned, and he enlisted the aid of his advisors. He was certainly not a proud man, something she rather liked about him. When he stated his abilities, it was never with embellishment or exaggeration. When Lavellan made a threat, as rare as they were, he kept it. One could see it in those tumultuous eyes. He was not a man who reacted out of irrational anger, but if that ire turned upon you, you would not survive the encounter. Lavellan made jokes to his friends of being a simple healer from a minor clan, but his connection to the Fade was powerful. If she weren’t so sure of his control, she would have feared him.

Controlled. Perhaps that was the word for him. Restrained. It was something they had spoken of, a rare thing they had agreed upon when they first met. Magic was dangerous, as dangerous as any weapon and it came to children who were unready to deal with the consequences. Her people had their way to control it and his people had his. The approach was simply different. The Inquisitor had been raised to treat his talents as a gift and one to be paid proper respect. He was taught early to protect himself and to protect the clan. It was how she saw the ideal of the Circle, really. Leadership, mentorship, and safe guards. They might not entirely agree on how the latter was to be implemented. Vivienne found it refreshing that he would argue with her not from the same firm stances as some mage supporters, but as a matter of both principles and practicalities. For every fire, there should be water enough to extinguish. But most fire was useful, helpful, vital, and a world without flames would leave them in utter darkness. 

But despite his usual composure, Lavellan was obviously uneasy on their way to the Palace. For one thing, he had never been terribly fond of horses and despised being in a carriage drawn by them. Normally he never let that show, but he startled every time one of the horses huffed. Lavellan was also playing with the carved wooden ring he wore on his right hand. It used to be on the left, but after receiving the mark he switched it. One could still see the tan line, but even after years it was beginning to fade. Vivienne had first suggested for him to wear gloves but he wanted to be able to feel surfaces. It was as much a comfort as it was technique. He could manipulate objects better if he directly touched them and a variety of textures was soothing to him. Another thing that he rarely let show in front of strangers, but his friends had embraced fully. Vivienne herself had arranged for a throw pillow to be made for him that was made from the scraps of other fabrics, quilted together as a flower. She had tried to make it was pleasant to look at as possible, but still felt the seamstress could have done a better job. 

Lavellan went to play with his hair and Vivienne grabbed his wrist. He shot her a look before putting his hands back in his lap.

"Sorry," he grumbled. 

"We spent a new hour arranging that," Vivienne reminded. "I won't have you mess it up now when we get so close."

"It feels so stiff though," he said. "What even is half this stuff?"

"Darling, you could not pronounce it so it does not matter. Let me say that it was very expensive and well worth it, before you complain."

He rolled his eyes, a gesture he had recently picked up from Sera. While she despised it on the young woman's face, she found it oddly endearing on his. Not that she would ever encourage it, of course. It was just amusing, like a father pretending to be his teenage daughter. Which was close to the truth. Lavellan had four children, the eldest only being a few years younger than Sera, somewhere around fifteen and sixteen. The others were twelve, eight, and five. Six, she corrected herself. The youngest had her birthday two months prior. Lavellan had been heartbroken to have missed it. At all these months of war he seemed most vulnerable when it came to matters of his family. When news of Wycome first came to them, it took Cassandra to physically restrain him from swimming over to the Free Marches to protect them. It surprised Vivienne deeply. Not that a man might care for his children, Bastien did certainly, but they were distant from him. If one had died, he would have mourned their loss but the Inquisitor's children were utterly precious to him. They were his beating heart.

And he had lost one. Long before they had met. It was a story he only told once, just after Bastien died. Lavellan did not speak of his bond mate often and he certainly did not speak of the twin to his youngest. She had seen their names first on his skin in battle when his armour was torn from his arms. She did not read Elvish script well, but she recognized it as a memorial tattoo. Not common among the Dalish, if she remembered correctly, but she had never asked Lavellan. When he told her his tale of loss, she gave no indication that she had suspected he was a widower. After Bastien died and Lavellan comforted her, it gave her some semblance of hope. Perhaps four years from now she too could think of Bastien and feel less pain.

"You seem lost in thought, Madame de Fer," Lavellan teased. "Don't tell me you're nervous too. I wouldn't be able to survive without my tour guide."

"I am preparing, which you should do to. Both of you."

Cassandra scowled at Vivienne and looked out the carriage window. 

Vivienne was about to roll her own eyes when she caught herself. The blasted girl was rubbing off on her.

***

It was a familiar dance, returning to the game. Easy to play, like sitting down at the piano once again. The right smiles, the right glances. That laugh that she had perfected for decades. It was strange without Bastien, that extra card up her sleeve, but she was still a favourite of the monarch. Well, this monarch. 

The lights dimmed and a servant came forward, announcing the members of the Inquisition. Vivienne watched in amusement. Now was the time to see if her coaching had finally paid off. She had no fears for Leliana or Josephine, who presented themselves well. Dorian had the sense to behave, which she was grateful for. As she had advised most of their companions and allies did not make a grand entrance, letting their presence be known but not exalted. Cullen was last of them, the poor thing practically sweating through his slightly too tight shirt.

And then the Inquisitor stepped forward. 

The room went quiet as Lord Sahlin Lavellan was announced. Despite having seen him less than an hour before, she was shocked at the transformation. His long black hair was braided and pinned to the back of his head. He wore a dark blue that brought out his eyes, his jacket embroidered with the silver silhouette halla facing each other. His matching trousers with silver piped inseams were well fitted and though his brown boots were absolutely beautiful, they were clearly made for the forests. This was not the outfit she had picked for him, but he looked so handsome that she had temporarily forgotten how foolish a gesture he was making. 

Despite his appearance, he otherwise behaved himself before the Empress and was given leave to enjoy the party. When she was able to, Vivienne pulled him aside onto a balcony. She was about to remind him what he had come here to do when he looked up at her with the softest smile on his face.

"You look beautiful," Lavellan murmured. 

Vivienne found herself stumbling slightly. "Thank you, but Inquisitor, we are here on business. You will have lost much good will with your outfit here. Now, there are important people you must speak to."

"But I'm sure none of them are as lovely as you," Lavellan said, gesturing at her dress. "You told me to blend in and here you are, more radiant than any other woman here. Is this dress made of silk or clouds? I mean, it looked nice when you were sitting, but now...you look incredible." 

Vivienne flushed slightly, thankful her dark skin hid her pleasure at his words. She had rather liked the dress, soft and white and flowing. She normally would wear something a bit more elaborate, but she thought it had been improper so soon after Bastien's death. The only real thing of beauty she wore were the strands of pearls tight against her throat and even they were understated. If it had been any lord or lady at the ball who had said something of that nature to her, she would have thanked them for their attempt at flattery and moved on. 

But he meant it and that pleased her more than was wise. 

"Just behave yourself," she said finally, "and make sure Sera stays away from the refreshments, please."

"Can I ask you to dance later?"

Vivienne disagreed, "I should not dance with anyone tonight, it would be inappropriate. I would suggest that you focus on making new connections."

Lavellan murmured, "As you wish, then."

Vivienne would go back to the game but throughout the night she would find herself looking for the Inquisitor in the crowd. Despite his hatred of small talk, he appeared to be letting Josephine introduce him to hundreds of people who had systematically oppressed he and his kin for centuries. But he played it well; at least it seemed from afar. He had once asked her how she spoke to Templars, knowing the abuses against mages. Vivienne thought first to give him her standard answer that was essentially that most Templars were fine people and they were just doing their job. But to him, and only him, would she give an honest answer: when in the lion's den one should not cower but bare their own teeth. It seemed the Inquisitor had taken the lesson to heart. At least something she tried to tell him stuck.

She watched him on and off throughout the evening as he snuck around gathering evidence. Vivienne tried not to pay him any attention, but found jealously flaring up slightly in her heart to see him in Florianne's arms. That was delightfully squashed at seeing Lavellan address the court, thwarting the plot without another drop of blood spilled. Truly, her pupil had become a master.  
As the evening grew late, the Inquisitor seemed to have disappeared into conversation with Briala. The two elves spoke for a near hour on the balcony and eventually Vivienne went to intervene, knowing that it was time wasted for Lavellan should be making other connections as well.

When Vivienne approached, Briala immediately left, leaving the two of them alone. 

Lavellan offered his hand. "Come dance with me. We shouldn't let all of Josephine's lessons go to waste, after all."

Vivenne gestured at the darkening clouds. "It will rain any moment, darling."

"Then we will get wet. Come dance with me. Please."

Vivienne accepted his hand and he led her into a slow waltz. She did not care for how much her heart raced when he put his hand on the small of her back. She pretended that it did not faze her. 

"I feel like I understand you better after tonight, Vivienne."

"Oh, and why is that, darling?"

"Your composure," he said. "You walk on broken glass every time you go into that room but you act like it's a sandy beach. You tell yourself that this is how one plays the game and it's the only one that's not rigged for you to lose. But do you actually win anything by playing it?"

"You do not have the same grasp of politics as I do," she protested, "and you and I have very different ideas of what success looks like."

"You're right, I do," Lavellan agreed. "Let me tell you my goal for tonight. I wanted an end to a pointless civil war between barbarians who would slay my clan for a slightly bigger garden. I managed to broker peace by convincing two lovers to reunite who have no possible future together. I helped a woman sacrifice her own life for a mere pittance of power and she thinks it a boon for our people." 

"They love each other."

"Their love is not between equals, it is between predator and prey. You should understand that better than most, I think."

Vivienne raised an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean, my dear? Are you comparing me to a wild beast?"

"You too are prey," Lavellan said, his voice softening. "You see that, don't you? Everything you have done is to survive. You've convinced yourself that if you are the perfect mage that you'll be an exception to them. And however much Bastien loved you...were you his peer or his pet?"

Vivienne raised her hand to slap him but restrained herself. She pulled away from him and went towards the doorway. 

"I would say that I expect you to apologize but I do not believe you are sorry," she said firmly. "I will say goodnight then, Inquisitor, and perhaps we can speak more civilly in the morning." 

"Vivienne, I-"

"No, you meant what you meant, so let me be truthful with you. You have been dropped into a place of power that you have no right to have. I have worked my entire life for my position and you think you have the right to judge me for what I have done to get here?"

"I do not judge you but-"

"The man I loved has been dead less than two months, a man I loved for over twenty years, one that you only met on his deathbed, and you dare insinuate that none of that was real? I do not expect you to understand what it means to be a Lord, but I do expect you to understand that. Or were you not married long enough to know?"

She put her hand to her mouth, shocked at what had slipped out. Vivienne expected him to grow angry with her, but he looked at her with pity.

"I was bonded to the one I loved for fourteen years," Lavellan said gently, "and those years were perfect. We had four...five beautiful children. We were lovers, best friends, and the greatest allies one could ever have. And we were equals. I never depended on her more than she depended on me. My heart broke when she died, but I was not afraid of what would happen to me or our children. I did not live with the fear that you did with the one you loved. I see Briala and I see what might have happened to you and the games you must have played to prevent that."

"Do not compare me to her," Vivienne hissed. "Nor Bastien to the Empress. You understand nothing, my dear. You think living in a caravan, scrapping for any piece of meat or bread, is comfort? I lived in an Estate. I had musicians and masseuses, three luxurious meals a day, warm baths and soft beds when you had dirt and streams."

"Those are good things," he admitted, "and I have enjoyed my time at Skyhold. I do not judge you, Vivienne. I did not mean to upset you or disparage what you have accomplished. But in these last few weeks you have spoken much of your relationship and the concessions you made. Now I see what the game is, I see how much of your relationship was based on fear. I just worry for you."

"For me?" She laughed. "You are a rabbit running with a pack of wolves and you think that I am in danger? My dear, your concerns are misplaced. I have lived a comfortable life, more comfortable than yours and I will continue to do so, even now that Bastien is gone. You are charming with your sincerity, but it is not needed."

"Just a rabbit?" Lavellan asked hoarsely.

Vivienne paled. "No, darling, I was not thinking. I did not mean-"

"Perhaps you were right, my Lady, my sympathies were misplaced," he murmured. "I will say my goodnights to you then."

He had spent the entire evening hearing terrible things about his people and yet she was the one to break him with just a single word. Her chest felt like it had been crushed with his heart. 

"Sahlin," she pleaded. 

"You have told me once that you appreciate my candor," Lavellan said quietly, "so let us be honest together at this moment. Do you agree?"

Vivienne nodded.

"I admire you," he confessed. "You are a stunningly beautiful woman. Brave, wise, and despite your best attempts otherwise, compassionate. While Haven burned, you were the one who told me I was enough, that I had done enough. When we arrived at Skyhold, it was your consolation I sought for I knew you would not make things easy for me. You have always told me what obstacles I would face honestly and lent me the strength to overcome them. And for the first time in many years, I felt like I might be able to truly open my heart to someone. A kindred spirit. And I felt that you were in turn opening your heart to me. I felt so grateful, so honoured, that you might trust me so and I hoped...I hoped I could give you some sort of peace. Joy, maybe. But I am not looking for crumbs, scraps of affection that are thrown on a whim."

"Then what are you looking for?" She asked, her heart pounded.

"Only the truest, deepest love," Lavellan said, "but that can only exist when there is equality, balance. Perhaps I was wrong to judge your relationship with Bastien, but you need not to lash out at me to hide what I think you feel for me. I cannot give you anything but love and that frightens you. You have worked so hard to build so much, you could not throw that away for a Dalish apostate. If you choose another lover, it should be done wisely. It should not be someone like me. But that is what I think and I wish to hear what you do."

"You presume much, darling."

"I theorize, I do not presume. Now be truthful with me."

"I think you a fool," she admitted, "but you are not entirely wrong. I fear you are making me soft and soft things are easily torn. It feels almost as if you wish to crack me open and it angers me. Not everything must be analyzed and pulled and tested. You are an idealist and I cannot afford to be one. Especially not now. It does not matter if what you say is true. What matters now is what I must do to protect myself and for the good of the Circle. While I...while I care for you, you will ruin me. You will shatter everything that I hold dear and true and I am not young enough to rebuild anew. So I appreciate your sincerity and I apologize for my harshness, but the fact remains that this would only end unpleasantly for us both and with dire consequences for our futures. So let me apologize and say goodnight."

"We have promised to be truthful and we have both stepped around the right words," Lavellan said. "So I will say it and if you do not wish me to, I will never again. I love you."

Vivienne trembled as he continued, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. "I have for some time, but I cannot hide it any longer. I may be Inquisitor for a time, but I am still Dalish. I still have four children. I still am an apostate. I cannot offer you any of the comforts you have grown accustomed to or any title. I can only offer you the protection of my own body and life. But I can offer you my love and respect for who you truly are. I would love you as my counterpart, my companion, my peer, and my equal. You will never have to shield yourself from me nor fear that I will abandon you if you no longer please me. I will love you simply as a man. It may not last forever, but nothing ever does. But if you will have me, I am yours. Body and soul without any unspoken words between us."

Vivienne was utterly torn. Part of her wanted to laugh and turn away, but she could not bear to hurt him. It would be pure selfishness, a need to protect her own heart. But part of her wanted to confess to him how she felt. 

Lavellan murmured, "You need not answer me now."

Vivienne whispered, "Take me to bed with you."

Lavellan first looked shocked but his expression softened. He stroked her cheek before pulling her in to a soft kiss. She put his arms around his neck as their lips met again. She lost all awareness of where they were, how precarious it would be for someone to find them in this position, but it did not matter. 

They went to the Inquisitor's chambers, their hands just brushing lightly against the others. Servants had already lit the fireplace and a basin of warm water and towels had been left aside. The balcony looked out to the forests, but it was just beginning to rain. Several candles were lit, illuminating the room. The bed was large and decadent, the blankets beautiful soft white down, pulled back to show the luxurious cotton sheets. A vase of red roses sat on the end table, their scent filling the room. Both placed their shoes just inside the door, letting their bare feet touch the exquisite Rivaini rug that covered much of the dark red hardwood floors. 

Suddenly Vivienne was afraid. All her life, she had been only with one man. She knew what pleased Bastien, but had no idea what this man might like. She had chosen this approach out of desire, yes, but it was a foolish tactic. 

She hesitated at the thought, examined it like one might examine an aching tooth. There was no greater game here, no angle to examine. This was a time to be open, vulnerable, as much as it scared her. She trusted him, above anyone in this world. It there was a time for being fragile, it was now. 

"Can we take this slow?" Vivienne asked.

Lavellan smiled nervously. "I was going to ask the same. I haven't ever lain with someone other than my wife and that was many years ago. I worry I will not live up to your expectations."

"Nor I yours," she admitted.

Lavellan kissed her again and she relaxed under the touch of his hands. She let him undress her, unraveling the layers of soft white robes until he reached her corset. He kissed her bare arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps. He undid the last few buttons in the back and she stepped out of the skirts. She laid her gown on the settee by the fireplace, smoothing the fabric as to not wrinkle it. She still wore her foundation garments and they covered most of her chest and upper thighs. Feeling still relatively secure, Vivienne reached out for the buttons on his jacket. 

Lavellan looked at her with obvious lust in his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as her hands brushed against his thin undershirt. He took off her pearls and set them gently aside. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it beside her dress. He took off his undershirt and placed it on top his jacket. She traced the deep scars across his stomach and he kissed her again, cradling her head in his hands. Still with her mouth on his, she unbuttoned his trousers, grazing his obvious arousal. She blushed, feeling like a virgin all over again. He stepped out of the last of his clothes and pulled off his socks, resting these two on the settee. He stood before her naked and erect and she could not help but run her hands down his body, feeling the muscles and flesh now on display. 

Vivienne turned from him and he unlaced her corset, kissing her naked back as he slowly revealed it. His hand slipped underneath her garments, ever so lightly stroking her sex. She shivered under his touch and turned to kiss him as her breasts were freed. He groaned and cupped them. 

"You are so beautiful," he murmured. 

She kissed him hungrily and he freed her of the rest of her clothes, tossing them aside. With surprising strength, he picked her up in his arms and brought her to the bed, laying her on her back. He kneeled over her and kissed down her body before his head dove between her legs.

And this, this she could not describe. Lavellan teased her sex with his tongue and his fingers stroked her tenderly and skillfully. She did not want to compare him to her only other lover, but Bastien had never been fond of this act, only performing it when she had trouble readying herself for him. But this man...this man drank from her like she was an oasis in the desert. 

She wrapped her legs around him, gripping into the sheets. Her body tensed and her back arched. He moaned into her and his tongue replaced his fingers. She shuddered and gasped, grinding against him. He encouraged her, his pace quickening, his hands gripping her hips. She whispered his name as she hit her peak and it became a chant as he continued, coaxing her through a second crest. After it passed through her, he kissed her thighs and down her legs, kissing both her feet. He looked up at her, the heat in his eyes only increased. If the blue in his eyes was a storm, then lightning was about to strike.

He wiped his mouth and rose to kiss her, still tasting of her sweet nectar. She wrapped herself around him, desperate to feel his skin against hers. Her hands gripped his hair as he guided himself into her. They both groaned and he held her body flush to his. He was not quite tall enough to kiss her mouth when he was inside of her and he arched his back, licking and sucking her breasts. They moved together and she could feel him shudder. She stroked his ears and he moaned into her skin, panting as he thrust into her. He grabbed at her hips, going even deeper into her. Vivienne cried for him and he did not stop. Still sensitive from earlier pleasure, she found herself on the edge again. She threw her head back and he kissed her bare throat, his teeth grazing her skin. She rode out her climax, unabashedly thrusting him into her. 

She normally never spoke during sex unless they were roleplaying She was too focused otherwise, too determined to get the most out of the act, give the most pleasure she could. 

But in her bliss, in her complete abandon, she whispered, "I love you."

Lavellan's thrusts lost their timing for a moment but he recovered quickly. He grasped at her breast, holding it to his mouth. He sucked at it and she shivered, confessing her love yet again. He thrust into her quickly, pounding into her. He swept her away and she held on, too intoxicated to do anything but melt into his arms. His climax grew upon him and she pleaded in his ear not to withdraw. 

He whispered, "Touch yourself."

She slipped her hand between them, rubbing at her swollen pearl as he still moved in her. He moaned into her skin, saying her name loud enough that someone might hear him, but she no longer cared. So she cried his without shame when she unraveled, her vision going nearly white. She was so overwhelmed she nearly missed him slamming into her, his legs shaking. He gushed inside of her and she was brought back to the present moment. He withdrew only to kiss her mouth hungrily. She rolled on top of him, kissing him with equal desperation. Utterly entwined in each other, they gazed in the other's eyes. Lavellan stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and murmured something in Elvish she could not understand. Then in their shared language, he said, "I love you."

She smiled. "And I you, beloved."

He nuzzled against her. "Perhaps it is crude to say among humans, but I do not think I have finished that hard in my life."

"You have not lain with a woman in four years," she reminded. 

"If that is how great sex normally is, I had forgotten and it would be cruel of you to make me wait another four years."

Vivienne laughed, "I do have a reputation of being a cruel woman."

Lavellan kissed her collarbone. "I know better and I would defend your honour against anyone who thinks so of you."

"I do rather like being the villain in Varric's current novel."

"Then I will not exile him," he teased, "but everyone else."

"Then Skyhold will be practically empty, darling."

"Then we shall have the place to ourselves and you can scream as loud as you like," he said, nipping at her skin.

Vivienne giggled, "Let them listen."

Lavellan grinned at her. "Then you do not mind letting others know who will be warming your bed from now on?"

Vivienne rested her forehead against his. "It is difficult for me to reveal myself to others, but I will not hide what I feel for you nor our relationship."

"I can accept that," Lavellan said. "Thank you, I know this is not easy for you."  
"For you I will try," she promised. 

And she knew that was enough for him. He wanted to so little of her other than to love her and for her to love him in return. And she did love him, a love that served no purpose other than its own existence. It was strange to her and she knew it would take time for her to understand it. But he would be knew that. She did not need to hide her heart from him. 

In the twenty five years she had been a mistress, she had twice slept in Bastien's bed, most times scurrying off to her own quarters for the night. But now she lay in her lover's arms, the rain beating down against the windows, and the fireplace warming them both. Here she was loved and safe and she had no need for anything or anyone else but him.


End file.
